


My Heart Knows You

by Polyoxyethylene



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Marichat May, Overarching plot, Shipping fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 20,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/Polyoxyethylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens slowly and all at once, all at the same time. A relationship with Chat Noir had never been on the cards, but Marinette had never been much of a card player. Their world and their happiness comes crashing down around them both when, despite their best efforts, news breaks, and Hawk Moth tries to use it to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cat Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> I came to Marichat May late, but I finished on time. Here are the best of the bunch, and they all tie into the final story.

“I fed you,” Marinette said.

Chat Noir looked up from the cake he was currently savouring, confusion etched across his expression. “Excuse me?” He asked, when no further outbursts seemed forthcoming.

“That's why you keep coming back,” Marinette said. “I _fed_ you.”

Chat Noir looked down at the slice of cake he'd been enjoying barely sixty seconds beforehand. He tilted his head, and thought about it. He'd landed on Marinette's balcony one cold, wet, lonely evening, feeling sorry for himself, and preparing to go back home to his lonely existence in his bedroom as Adrien Agreste. Ladybug hadn't been out, Hawk Moth had apparently decided to give it a rest for an evening, and Chat Noir had paused on Marinette's balcony to shake some of the rain out of his hair and face before continuing on.

He hadn't expected her to open the trap door and stick her head up into the rain to see who had landed on her roof. He hadn't expected the shocked expression, and to be firmly told to come inside out of the rain you _silly cat_.

She'd given him a warm towel, and asked him what he was doing out on a night like this, and then, when he'd started telling her, instead of flirting, about just needing to get out for a while, about how he wished he could sit with his friends at school instead of doing what his father told him to do, about how he'd just had a bad day, she'd told him to wait there, and gone downstairs. She'd come back with a slice of cake each for them, and just listened to him.

No one had done that since his mother, and he'd returned the next week, and the next, and every week since. He saw a different side to Marinette as Chat Noir than he did as Adrien. Around Adrien she was sweet, and clumsy, but she lacked confidence unless she was challenged and forgot that Adrien was there. In front of Chat Noir she was always confident, and she reminded him a little of Ladybug. They had the same iron will, and the same kind heart. He'd grown fond of Marinette, more than he would have if he'd only known her as Adrien. He liked spending time with her, and he liked listening to her talk almost as much as he liked the fact that she listened.

He looked down at the slice of cake he'd been eating, and then back up at her. “It's a cat thing,” he said, flashing a bright grin at her.


	2. In Denial

He wasn't falling for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

More importantly, he couldn't be falling for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He loved Ladybug, he loved her eyes, and her hair, and her resolve, and her sense of justice, and the fact that he'd seen her weak, he'd seen her doubt herself, he'd seen her nearly crumble under the weight of her nerves, and he'd seen her stand tall despite all of that, stride forward with confidence, and challenge the villain head on. He'd seen her shine when she hadn't thought she could.

_He'd seen Marinette do the same._

In a hundred small ways he'd seen Marinette do the same. She was a bumbling, clumsy mess, that struggled to string a sentence together sometimes, but she could face up to Chloe, direct their classmates to safety, and hadn't balked at being asked to help him and Ladybug take down an akuma that was fixated on her. She'd risen to the challenge and then some, despite the fact that akuma were dangerous and she was just a civilian.

He'd meant to kiss her cheek when he said goodbye that night. He'd done it a handful of times before. They were _French_ , this was _normal_. But when she'd turned at the last moment, which he didn't think was deliberate, but maybe it had been, his lips had brushed hers and a jolt of lightning had zipped through his spine and taken his breath away.

He couldn't be falling for her. It wasn't fair to _her_. She didn't know who he was under the mask, she'd probably have no interest in him if she did, and even then, was it fair of him to start anything with her when at least some of his heart belonged, always would belong, to his Lady?

It wasn't fair to _him_ , the more selfish part of him thought. He felt torn. On the one hand, there was Ladybug. The amazing, incredible, breathtaking Ladybug, protector of Paris, whom he'd protect in turn with his very life if required.

On the other was Marinette. Simple, astounding, spectacular, miraculous Marinette, who shared Ladybug's strength of heart and purpose, and did it all _without_ the mask. 

He barely slept that night, the softness of Marinette's lips invading his dreams, the tingle her touch had left in his own still lingering by morning. He couldn't be falling for her, it was unfair to them both.

Life wasn't fair.


	3. Injured

“Do you get injured?” She asked.

Chat Noir looked up from the chaise in Marinette's bedroom to find her looking at him with piercingly blue eyes. He looked down at his hand, fingers tipped with claws, and skin covered in the fine black tessellating hexagons of his suit. He'd wondered about it himself, but Plagg had been uniquely uninformative about the limitations of his strengths, and weaknesses.

“No,” he said, after thinking about it. Marinette tilted her head at him, and he sat up, flexing his fingers, thoughtfully. “Things hurt,” he admitted, “but not as much as you'd think.” He'd been thrown off a building, and could bounce across the road without so much as a bruise, although they hadn't exactly been comfortable. “The suit's magic,” he said, softly, “it protects me from a lot.”

Marinette hummed, wordlessly, and turned back to her homework. He'd told her he'd sit patiently and wait for her to finish it, because he wouldn't be responsible for her being grounded on account of poor grades. He'd planned to let her finish it, without interrupting her, but the question, and subsequent murmur, made that difficult.

“Worried about me, Princess?”

“Yes.” He hadn't expected that answer, and he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She wasn't looking at him, but he got the impression she was deliberately not looking at him, rather than concentrating hard on her studies.

“Don't be,” he said, eventually.

“You're too self sacrificing,” she replied, her voice suddenly quiet. “You take hits for Ladybug all the time. I just,” she trailed off, her head bowing slightly, “wondered if they hurt.”

Chat felt his throat tighten as he looked at Marinette. He tried to reply, but found his jaw worked uselessly until he grit his teeth, his shoulders slumping. “They don't hurt,” he said, finally. _Much._

Marinette nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching faintly in a sad smile. “At least there's that.”


	4. Protective Chat

Marinette squeaked as she backed up onto her desk chair, eyes fixed on Chat Noir and wide. Chat Noir had his bright, mischievous grin plastered on his face and was holding his gently curled fist towards her. “I protected you, Princess,” he was saying, but she still didn't crawl down from her position on the chair, and she certainly didn't take a step near Chat Noir.

“Take it outside, Chat,” she pleaded.

“Don't you want to look at it?” Chat Noir asked, his tone completely failing to contain so much as a hint of innocence.

“No I do not!” Marinette said, trying to keep her voice down so that her parents downstairs wouldn't hear and have reason to come upstairs, and potentially find their daughter being terrorised by a boy in a skintight cat suit. They might get the wrong idea.

“Are you sure?” He asked, taking another step towards her.

She scowled, then, giving him a poisonous look. “So help me, Chat Noir, if you come one step closer I am taking you to the _vet_ tomorrow.”

He laughed, and then stifled his laughter with his free hand, and continued to laugh. He bit it back for long enough to head to the window, placing his hand outside and opening it, shaking the spider free into the air.

“Shut the window so it doesn't come back,” Marinette said, finally clambering down from her perch.

“I didn't know you were afraid of spiders,” Chat said, as he closed her window as requested. His cheeks ached from grinning and laughing, and it was a good feeling, even if Marinette would probably make him pay for it.

“I'm not,” Marinette said, trying to sound haughty, and instead sounding like she was protesting too much. “I just don't like them.” She scowled at him, “Especially when my boyfriend catches it and threatens to show it to me.”

Chat straightened up, sharply, the humour of his teasing abruptly flushed away by that word. “Boyfriend?”

Marinette flushed, suddenly flustered by her own slip of the tongue. “Uh,” she murmured, looking away from him, “I mean...”

“I've never been anyone's boyfriend before,” he said, quietly, giving her a shy and sweet smile.

Marinette glanced up at him and coloured further, wiggling her toes before she said, “Me either.” She caught her slip, and hastily corrected, “I mean I've not,” she hesitated, “before, you're the first,” she squirmed again, and caught his eye.

The two of them looked at each other for a moment before he laughed, which broke the tension building in her, and she laughed too. He swept forward to wrap his arms around her, still laughing as he said, “I'm honoured, princess.”


	5. Protective Marinette

Sometimes, Marinette wondered what exactly it was about their school that made akuma flock to it like literal moths to a proverbial flame. She couldn't blame it _all_ on Chloe, even if she was at least partially responsible for the sheer volume of akumatised classmates, but she wasn't the sole reason for all of them.

The screams had started, and half the class had bolted like sensible students, but the other half, which included Alya, had some kind of victimhood wish. Alya, at least, didn't have an explicit victimhood wish, she just lost all higher reasoning ability when it came to the potential to get close to Ladybug and Chat Noir.

If she ever found out who Ladybug actually was, Marinette might have to leave the country. Until that day, she was stuck right here, trying to pretend to her best friend, or at least her best friend that didn't run around in a magical cat suit, that she was anything other than your average scared civilian in the face of an akuma attack.

The screams outside the classroom had died down, but the sound of devastation being wreaked had not. The akuma had started in the library, and had thus far trapped at least two students inside books. Marinette peeked out of a crack in the doorway, listening and watching for their chance; if she could get everyone else out, she could get 'lost' in the exodus, transform, and take this thing down. 

Then she heard it. Beyond the door, an all too familiar voice declared, “Sorry I'm late, I was all _booked_ up!” She groaned.

“Chat Noir's arrived,” she said.

“Ladybug won't be far behind,” Alya said, excitedly.

“If you don't want to end up literally lost in a good book,” Marinette said, “you have to run. You can't put anything on the blog if you're made of paper.”

Beyond the door she heard Chat Noir gasp and say, sounding slightly impressed, “Whoa, you're not _kitten_ around.” Marinette put her palm against her face. She really needed to talk to him about the puns.

“Is it me,” Alya asked, “or are his puns getting worse?”

“They've always been bad,” Marinette said. Then she held her hand up for silence as a figure zipped past the door. A book flew past after it, but the impact was dull, and empty, and Marinette let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

She held three fingers up, preparing to swing the door wide open, and then counted with her fingers. One, the akuma was gliding by, ignoring them as it chased Chat Noir. Two, it had passed them, they had a clear run to the door provided no one stopped. _Three_.

She swung the door wide open and shouted, “Go!” People did, Ivan guiding Mylène out in a hurry, keeping her ahead of him and protected, Nathanaël following soon after. She followed Alya out, and then saw it. The akuma had Chat Noir cornered, barely dodging a book that would have trapped him, and smacking another one away with his baton.

“Hey!” She slipped her shoe off before she even had the time to think, her eyes meeting Chat's in an instant before she threw her shoe overarm, catching the akuma in the forehead as it turned. It reeled for a moment, and then she squeaked before shouting at Alya, and Chat, to, “Run!”

He was going to tell her off for that when he visited tonight, she knew. She could see it in his expression already.


	6. Adrien Posters

“Can I ask you something?”

Marinette looked up from her stitching to look at Chat, and saw exactly where his gaze had fallen. Her eyes widened and her cheeks coloured. “No,” she said. She didn't want to get into that conversation with him. She did _not_.

Chat turned and looked at her, obviously startled by the answer. “But--” He began.

“Chat,” Marinette protested, burying her face in her hands so she didn't have to look at him.

“Do you _like_ him?” Chat's voice was full of amused wonder and not a hint of jealousy as he continued to pry.

Marinette groaned, keeping her face hidden.

“You _do_ , don't you? You _like_ him.” Chat sounded like the cat that had, against all expectations, got the cream, and the canary. “I thought you just had these pictures up because he's a model, and you're into fashion, but no, you actually like _him_.”

Marinette groaned again. She was never going to live this down, Chat Noir sounded far too delighted about it. He and Ladybug had met Adrien before, after all. She was glad he wasn't jealous, but she was horrified that he seemed to find it _funny_.

“What do you like about him?” Chat asked. “Aside from his looks, because obviously mine are superior.”

Marinette spread her fingers to peek between them, finding herself looking at Chat Noir imitating some of the poses Adrien was using on the posters. He was enjoying his girlfriend having a silly crush far too much, but then, he probably considered it only fair since she 'tolerated' his silly, and harmless, crush on Ladybug. He didn't know that was because his silly and harmless crush was also on her, which made this rather different when you thought about it.

Marinette tried not to think about it.

“He's sweet,” she said, into her hands, closing her fingers again before she sighed, and made herself peel them away. She couldn't actually hide from Chat that way, as much as she wished she could. “He,” she paused, and shook her head, starting over. “I didn't know he was a model when I first met him. I thought he was just another pretty bully who was going to make school hell for me.”

Chat Noir looked significantly less amused, the humour disappearing from his face, and he stopped his posturing to look at her, his head on one side.

“But he wasn't,” she continued, looking down at the floor. “I'd jumped to conclusions, but he gave me a chance anyway, and it turns out he's a really sweet boy who doesn't have the friends he deserves, and his father's an amazing designer but he really sucks at being a parent, and he gave me his umbrella once and I've had a massive crush on him ever since.” She frowned, biting her lip, before she glanced up at Chat Noir. “But I don't want you to be jealous,” she said, “because not only can I barely say two words to him without tripping over my own tongue, I have an even bigger crush on you.”

Chat looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he said, “I'm not jealous.” His voice was softer than she expected it to be, and his smile matched. “He's lucky to have caught your attention that way,” he said, reaching his hand out to take her fingers and pull her hand up, “and I'm even luckier to be able to return it.”

He pressed his lips to her knuckles.


	7. Dancing

It had become a dance.

The steps had become familiar with repetition, and if Marinette didn't think about it, it became easy to fall into rhythm.

Chat Noir showed up once a week, regular as clockwork, shortly after patrol. She now anticipated his arrival with sweet treats, tarts, and buns, and miniature cakes, and she was learning which were Chat's favourites although one could argue his favourites were everything. You'd think he never got fed at home, although it seemed he certainly didn't get sweets very often.

She left her trapdoor open, and he wouldn't knock, but would listen at the door to make sure the coast was clear. If she had a visitor, he could hear, and so far that had only happened once, and he'd left her a flower by her trap door for when she finally came up to see if he was still there.

It was all becoming very predictable, and comfortable.

Until one of them had broken step and thrown them both out of rhythm. Now Marinette felt like she was stumbling headlong into who knew what. He'd kissed her, and he hadn't meant to, and she'd torn herself to pieces over it for days afterwards. It had made her skin tingle, and her breath catch, and it was so confusing it hurt.

He was due to visit tonight. Marinette was waiting for him on her balcony instead of in her room. She could never be sure if he meant for her to hear him approach, or if she was still just that bit better than him at hearing his footfalls, but she heard him when he was coming up behind her. “Chat?” She asked, when she knew he couldn't be more than a couple of steps away.

“Marinette,” he said, his voice quiet, and soft, and slightly strained.

“I know you didn't mean to,” she said, closing her eyes. It had been an awful week. Chat had left her feeling as if she'd just stepped out of a washing machine, the world topsy turvy, her head still in a spin. She hadn't been able to discuss it with Alya, and worse, when she'd tried to remind herself that she loved _Adrien_ , not Chat, he'd been upsettingly scarce, his schedule more packed than usual, dashing out of the room, failing to meet her eye. He hadn't even said hello to her the morning after, he'd just looked away and dashed off to a photoshoot.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and she sighed. “I don't want things to be awkward between us,” she said, without looking around.

“Neither do I,” Chat said, tugging on her shoulder until she relented and let him turn her around. She found herself looking up into his unreal green eyes and her breath caught again. His face was more expressive than it had any right to be in the mask, and he was looking at her so intently.

She swallowed, her back against the railing as Chat's hand brushed her jaw, tenderly. “Marinette?” She didn't manage to respond with anything more than a squeak. When had he got so close? “May I?”

She nodded.

His lips pressed against hers softly, and it felt like lightning jolting through her flesh and into her spine. Her breath caught in her throat, the railing pressing into her back as she let Chat press her against it. His tongue was gentle, and warm, an intimate invasion that set her skin on fire until she couldn't take any more and returned his gentle, probing touches with her own. His chest pressed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, and still his lips and his tongue explored hers as if every touch was asking for her permission.

She was breathless and dazed when he pulled away, the sudden absence of his body against hers making the air between them feel chillier than it had.

“Now what?” She asked, when she remembered how to speak.

The backs of his fingers ran over her jaw again as he looked at every part of her face as if committing the vision to memory. “Now I really want to do that again.”

And just like that, Marinette realised, the tempo of the dance had changed.


	8. Nightmare

Marinette wasn't sure whether it was the sound of her trap door opening that woke her, or the shift of the bed under her as an extra weight added itself to her bed, so slowly that it was clearly trying not to wake her. She silently counted to three before she rolled, throwing the blanket over her assailant and pinning them with one of her arms and her knee.

Her assailant yelped, and then declared, in a muffled but recognisable voice, “Marinette, it's me!”

Marinette paused, her brain catching up with her ears, and she peeled the blanket away from their head.

“Chat?” She asked.

He looked up at her with a wide, lopsided, and slightly abashed grin.

“ _Chat_?” She repeated.

“That's me,” he said, helpfully.

Marinette continued to stare at him before her brain and her mouth exploded at the same time with all the questions his unexpected and very late night presence in her room begged. “What do you think you're doing? What time is it? Why the hell were you sneaking into my bed? I could have hurt you!”

“I don't think you'd have hurt me, Princess,” he said, with a slight grin.

“I still might hurt you,” she told him. “What are you doing here?” She glanced at her alarm, which told her it was three in the morning, otherwise known as that time at which no reasonable human being had any business being awake. But this was Chat Noir, and Marinette would concede that you really had to squint to fit him into your image of a reasonable human being.

“I had a nightmare,” he said, softly.

“So you decided to come and give me a heart attack?” She asked. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and all the forlorn looks and quiet admissions in the world weren't going to make it calm down again now.

“I just needed to check you were okay,” he said. “I know it's stupid,” he admitted, looking away from her eyes, and Marinette felt herself sigh. Chat really was hopeless, sometimes.

“I'm fine,” Marinette said, relaxing back onto the bed, and letting Chat Noir up again. “I was fine,” she corrected, “now I'm wide awake at three in the morning on a school night.”

Chat sighed, his hand reaching out to take hers. “I dreamt that Hawk Moth,” he began, and faltered, and then he said, so quietly, “I couldn't lose you, too.”

Marinette inhaled deeply, and exhaled loudly. “You dumb cat,” she scolded him, though fondly, “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She let him curl up to her, pretending she didn't notice the quiet sobs into her shoulder, and stroked his hair until his breathing had settled to suggest he was asleep. Only then did she press a kiss to his cheek, and settle down herself to try and get some more sleep before morning.


	9. "I almost lost you"

He'd done it again. That stupid, noble, self-sacrificing idiot of a cat had done it again. The Ice Queen had aimed at her, at Ladybug, and Chat Noir had shouted her name, and used himself as a shield. He'd become a statue, made entirely of ice, and she'd been left scared and alone again. Her only option had been to defeat the akuma, on her own, to try and rescue her partner and every other civilian that had been caught up in the attack.

She loved him, but if she hadn't been so busy trying to rescue the blistering idiot, she'd have been really, really angry at him.

Now it was all over and she was tucked up safely in her bedroom, with an extra blanket around her shoulders, she had the time to be angry at him. She was still angry an hour later when her trapdoor opened and a black clad idiot in cat ears dropped through. He offered her a flower, and his usual greeting of, “Evening, Princess,” as if he hadn't nearly become ice cubes that afternoon.

She took the flower from him, but she desperately wanted to smack him with it. Instead, she glared.

“Uh,” he began, “did I come at a bad time?”

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to shout, and cry, and yell at him for being a self sacrificing idiot.

He yelped when she lunged, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding onto him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. “Princess?”

She didn't reply, merely tightened her hold. He was warm, and solid, and his hair tickled the back of her neck, and she never, ever wanted to let him go again. She never ever wanted to see him get hurt for her sake again, and the worst thing, the very worst thing, was that she couldn't even tell him this.

His arms folded around her, and the confusion was still obvious in his voice even as he hugged her back, just as fiercely. “What is it, Marinette?”

“I almost lost you,” she whispered.

The silence dragged on as she tightened her hold on him, and he eventually asked, “What do you mean?”

“This afternoon,” she whispered, burying herself so close to him that she was breathing him in. He was still here, he was still real, and she needed that reassurance. “The akuma, you,” she continued. “Why do you do it?”

His hand went into her hair and he sighed. “I trust Ladybug with my life,” he answered, as if that was the only answer that might possibly matter.

Marinette felt her throat ache as she gripped Chat a little tighter. “I'm not sure I do.”


	10. Sleep Talking

“You talk in your sleep, you know.”

Marinette opened one eye to spy Chat Noir, perched cheerfully on her bed with his legs crossed, reading one of her books. She groaned, and buried her face in her pillow.

“You're so eloquent in the morning,” Chat said, cheerfully.

Marinette grunted and lifted her head to look at her clock. She blinked at it, staring for a moment, trying to make sense of the readout. “Chat,” she said, “it's seven in the morning on a Sunday, why are you even awake?” He was almost offensively cheerful for the time of day, too.

“I'm going to be busy all day,” Chat answered, “and I wanted to see you.” He grinned, broadly. “I didn't wake you up this time.”

Marinette groaned, flopping back down onto her bed. “If you had, I'd have killed you.”

“Does Sleeping Beauty require a kiss to awaken?” Chat asked.

“Don't make me get a plant mister,” she threatened.

Chat laughed, and she felt the bed shift as his weight shifted, until he was leaning over her, one hand on either side of her shoulders. “You're cute when you're grumpy,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sleep well, Princess.”

He made a move to go, and was caught when Marinette rolled over onto her back and grabbed him around the waist. He looked down at her in surprise as she said, “Nuh uh, I'm awake now. I want my kiss.”

Chat's smile showed his teeth and he leaned down to press his lips against hers in a sweet, chaste peck. “So,” he asked, “were you having good dreams about Adrien? You said his name a lot.”

He was just fast enough to duck out of the way of her arm.


	11. Possessive Kitty

His fingers laced through hers and she could feel the prick of his claws on the backs of her hands as he pressed her hands into the bed. The weight of him over her was intoxicating, and she murmured softly against his mouth as he kissed her breath away.

It was getting late. They should really stop. He should really go.

Instead Marinette sighed against his mouth again, letting his lips and tongue remove her ability to think, as well as her ability to breathe normally. He'd got unfairly good at this, with practice, and now the right nip of his teeth, and sweep of his tongue could leave her feeling soft and pliant under him.

“Chat,” she murmured, as he pulled away from her mouth to press his lips to her cheek, her jaw, her throat.

“Princess?” He asked, before he moved up again to press his lips to the corner of her mouth, a move which always made it harder for her to push him away.

“You should,” she began, and his lips found hers again, tongue sweeping in to brush against hers before he pulled back a little, “really,” he pressed his lips to the other corner of her mouth, leaning in so close against her she could feel his weight crushing her into the bed, “go,” she finished.

He hummed in response. It was acknowledgement, but not agreement, and he shifted one of his hands, dragging hers up with it until it was pinned beside her head. Marinette opened her eyes to look at him, and found herself looking directly into bright green eyes that were half closed with pleasure. Sometimes just the way he looked at her was enough to make her toes curl.

“Don't look at me like that,” she whispered, finding her voice failing her under the intensity of his gaze.

“Like what?” He asked, his pink cheeks giving away his own flush at the edges of his mask.

“Like I'm some mouse you've caught,” she told him.

His smile widened into a predator's grin, all cocky smirk and teeth. “But I have caught you, princess.”


	12. Possessive Marinette

Just because I'm caught doesn't mean I'm a mouse, Marinette thought, defiantly. She held Chat's gaze for a little longer before she looked away, shyly, settling under him again, and lifting her knee up so it rested by his hip.

His grin, somehow, widened.

“Maybe,” she said, not meeting his eyes. He bent down to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth, and she turned at the last moment, capturing his lips with hers, and taking her turn to press the kiss deeper. He responded with delight, and she felt him getting comfortable there.

She curled her fingers over the backs of his hands, and brought her knee up a fraction higher. Then she rolled, pushing with all her strength against his hip and his hands to flip him onto his back so that she landed on top of him and it was her turn to press him into the bed.

He let out a small yelp of surprise. Marinette was stronger than she looked. Ladybug's suit enhanced everything, of course, but it was difficult to spend more of your free time than you really had running over Paris's rooftops without reaping some of the benefits as your civilian self. She straddled Chat's hips and pressed his hands into the bed by his shoulders.

The look on his face was incredible. Stunned, and awed, and, the thought made Marinette blush a little herself, possibly a little bit turned on.

“But are you quite sure you're the one that did the catching?” She asked, giving him one of her Ladybug smirks before she leant down and took his mouth. She could feel his urge to move his hands, to reach up and grab her, and pull her closer, but Marinette had a point to make, and she pressed his hands harder into the bed.


	13. Confessions

“Does this frighten you?”

Marinette felt Chat's arms tighten around her waist at her question. She could hear his breath in her ear, his nose turned into her hair, his chest pressed against her back, and legs lying along the outside of hers. He'd had more than one nightmare now, upsetting images of losing her, or his ring, or his father, of being unable to reach her in time as she fell from the Eiffel tower, of having to fight her if she fell victim to an akuma. He didn't always come and wake her in the middle of the night, but she knew he'd had a nightmare when he visited and the first thing he did was wrap himself around her as if to make sure she was still real, and still here, and still his.

“I don't mean the nightmares,” she said, sliding her hand over his arm to twine her fingers with his. “I mean _this_.”

“Sometimes,” he whispered, just as Marinette thought he wasn't going to answer.

“Why?”

“I couldn't bear to lose you,” he said, his voice little above a whisper.

“That's not a good reason to be scared,” she told him, half scolding.

“It's a perfect reason to be scared,” he said, his hold on her tightening again. “Because of who I am,” he said, “if anyone knew, you'd be in so much danger. That scares me.”

Marinette sighed. She wished she could tell him that she was fine, that she'd be fine, that she'd seen him put himself in more danger than he was putting her in by coming to her at night. That she could protect herself, and him, and that she trusted him to protect her and himself should she ever need it.

That was the problem with falling for your partner in heroics while he was in the mask, and you weren't in yours. There was the risk, now, that if she told him who she was, and all the reasons he shouldn't have to be afraid for her, that it would only make things worse. Paris needed Chat Noir, not Marinette's boyfriend, and Ladybug needed Chat Noir, who scared her enough with his tendency to sacrifice himself for her sake without her telling him that she was also the girl he'd fallen in love with.

“Chat,” she said, “I knew what I was getting into the first time I meant to kiss you.” Their first kiss had been an accident, and didn't count, but their second... It was a lie; she hadn't known what she was getting into. What she had known was that all the dangers involved with kissing Chat Noir didn't scare her. She hadn't expected to feel like this, to find herself missing him with such intensity it was like toothache in her heart on the night he didn't visit, to find herself dreaming about him at night, but she had known that they couldn't risk being found out. “I knew who you are, and what you do, and I don't care.”

“I do,” he said, sullenly.

“Well I don't,” she said, firmly. “I trust you,” she moved, turning her head and twisting her neck until she could catch a glimpse of green eyes at the corner of hers, “and I want you to trust yourself _and Ladybug_ as much as I do.”

He looked at her for what felt like a long time before he tightened his arms around her again, leaning forward to rest his head on her shoulder.


	14. Paparazzi

“You,” Alya said, as she caught up with Marinette that morning, “have some explaining to do.”

Marinette was tired. There had been an akuma last night, not far from the bakery, and she'd had to race home to beat Chat there when they'd separated because a part of her just knew he'd want to check on her. She'd had to rush into her pyjamas, and make a swift excuse to him that she was in the bathroom when he'd arrived, and then she'd had to pretend not to know anything about the akuma, and _then_ he'd been reluctant to leave. She fought to suppress her smile at the memory of him finally dipping below the railing of her balcony, only to pop up again and request a goodnight kiss before he left. As a result of all that, she wasn't prepared for an onslaught from Alya.

“About what?” She asked.

Marinette reared back when Alya's phone was thrust in front of her face. The image was grainy, taken at night, but you could just about see the form of Chat Noir, hanging onto the outside of a balcony railing, while someone with dark hair pressed intimately close to his face, one pale hand resting in his hair.

Her heart stopped. “Uh,” she began, “I,” she had no explanation. She needed to come up with one quickly, and to do that, she needed to stall. “Nice photoshop work, Alya!”

Alya looked unimpressed. “That isn't photoshop,” she said, taking the phone away again, “that's _Chat Noir_ , hanging around outside your bedroom, kissing someone. Kissing _you_.”

Marinette felt the colour rising in her cheeks and her chest tightening. This was bad, this was very, very bad. “We weren't kissing,” she said, hurriedly.

Alya raised an eyebrow at her. “What were you doing?” She asked, “Checking for loose fillings? With your tongue,” she added, folding her arms. Marinette didn't respond immediately, just looked awkward, and unhappy, and Alya huffed. “Why didn't you just _tell me_ you were dating Chat Noir?” She asked, exasperated. “I mean,” she said, halting herself as she listened to the words coming out of her mouth, “you're dating _Chat Noir_. This is amazing.”

“I'm not!” Marinette said, and then whimpered, and begged, quietly, “Please don't put this on the Ladyblog?”

Alya actually looked offended. “Do you think I'd risk the safety of my best friend by putting something like that on the internet?” She asked, seriously. “What do you take me for, Marinette?”

“A paparazzi ninja?” Marinette offered, which seemed to soften Alya's ire. “We're not dating,” she said, “he just comes round sometimes. Ladybug always disappears after an akuma attack, and he doesn't really have anyone else to talk to about being a superhero. There was an akuma last night, and he was a bit bruised and feeling sorry for himself,” she said, watching Alya's face carefully as she rapidly constructed the lie, hoping it sounded believable, “so he came to talk. I kissed him goodbye,” she saw Alya's face light up with an impending _a-ha_ and defused it quickly, “on the _cheek_ , Alya. You know I love Adrien.”

“How do I know he's _not_ Adrien?” Alya asked, defiant to the last.

Marinette snorted, “Don't be silly,” she said. “Chat's a goofball, and an outrageous flirt. Adrien's a gentleman.”

“And Chat Noir isn't?” Alya asked, eyebrow raising, ready to pounce on gossip like a good reporter.

“Chat's,” Marinette said, and thought about it. Chat Noir _was_ a gentleman, she thought. He was sweet, and kind, and if they gave awards for having your heart in the right place he'd win it hands down. He always thought about others, always put them before himself, and always put himself between Ladybug and danger, or Marinette and danger, even though she sorely wished he wouldn't. “A different kind of gentleman,” she concluded. “A goofy kind. He dances to Gangnam Style,” she said, as if proving her point. “Can you see Adrien doing that?”

Alya murmured, but unfolded her arms. “Fine,” she decided, “you're friends with Chat Noir.”

Marinette felt her heart start beating again, the weight lifting from her chest.

“Could you get me an interview?”


	15. Stargazing

“What are you looking at?”

Marinette turned to look at the top of the wall behind her. Chat Noir crouched there, his green eyes bright in the darkness. “How long have you been there?” She hadn't heard him approach, and usually she did, even when he tried not to let her hear him. Either he was getting better, or she was getting worse.

“Long enough,” he answered, creeping over the wall to land delicately on her balcony. His footfalls were quieter, she realised, he definitely was getting better. “What are you looking at?”

Marinette turned her attention back to the sky. “The stars,” she said, finally. “Although you can barely see any of them in Paris,” she admitted, with a sigh. The city was too bright. Chat perched himself on the railing, watching her curiously. “We went on holiday to the Pyrénées mountains when I was little,” she said, looking at him. “You could see the whole galaxy, there.”

Chat looked up at the sky above them. Paris suffered a lot of light pollution, and some nights even the brightest stars were only barely visible. He looked thoughtful for a moment, watching Marinette frown up at the night sky again.

“I know a good spot,” he said, eventually.

Marinette smiled at him. “I don't think my parents will be happy with Chat Noir whisking me out of the city in the dead of night.”

“We don't have to leave the city.”

She'd looked confused then, and had taken Chat's hand when he offered it to her. He'd picked her up bridal style and leapt from her roof, and she'd clung on for dear life as he bounded and ran over Paris's rooftops. It was an unpleasant sensation to cross the city under someone else's control, but she trusted Chat not to do something awful, like drop her.

He'd adjusted his grip on her when they arrived at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and vaulted up it swiftly until he deposited her carefully back to her own feet at the top of it.

“Here,” he said, looking out beyond the tower.

Marinette looked up and frowned. “Chat,” she said, “it's even worse from here.”

“Not _up_ ,” he said, as if she was missing the obvious. He took her shoulders and turned her to look out across the city, whose lights glittered like a million stars, flickering with the lives that each one represented. A family here, a tourist there, a car, a hotel, a tiny apartment that cost far too much money but whose view was considered worth it by the owner, their lights twinkled in the darkness, giving life to Paris at night. “There,” he said, as she looked, “the most beautiful stars in the world.”

Marinette looked, and felt herself soften at the stupid romance of the notion. The people of Paris were Chat's stars, she realised, they were the stories he protected, and now he was sharing this with her. She looked at him, as he looked out across his city with a soft smile on his face.

“You're a dork, Chat Noir,” she said, fondly. He looked at her, his eyes widening with offence before she slipped her arms around his shoulders, pressing close to him with a smile and added, “Though a very cute one.”

She saw his cheeks tinge darker under the edges of his mask, and he offered her one of his sweet, soft smiles, rather than the outrageously flirtatious grins she usually got from him when she was this close. “You like it?” He asked.

“Yes,” she answered, closing her eyes, and pressing forwards to grace his lips with hers.


	16. Eavesdropping

He didn't get to visit Marinette during the day very often. His regular visits had to be restricted to night time, both because of school, and extracurricular activities, and also because of patrols and the risks of being caught dropping by her bedroom in broad daylight. It was more fun at night anyway, he told himself. He could kiss her, and hold her, and watch her wonderfully headstrong self control crumble at his touch, and the only thing better than making Marinette Dupain-Cheng melt into his arms was melting into hers in turn. Marinette could take his breath away with a look; she had this one way of smirking at him that looked so much like Ladybug when she'd figured out how to use her Lucky Charm that it made his heart stop. She could kiss him until the only sound in his mind was his heart beating the rhythm of her name against his ear drums, and she could turn the tables on him and pin him against the bed in a way that had featured in his dreams for the next couple of nights.

Marinette was smart, and funny, and stubborn, and thoughtful, and she made Chat Noir's head spin. He wished, dearly wished, she'd be like this around him as Adrien, too, and she had been more relaxed around him in the last few weeks. Still, Adrien didn't see her the way Chat Noir saw her, and the person Chat Noir saw was incredible and addictive.

His feet carried him across the rooftops to Marinette's balcony, but as he got close, he could hear voices. One was obviously Marinette, but it took him a moment to realise the other was Alya.

“So that's why you're not tripping over yourself around Adrien any more.”

Chat paused, wondering what this conversation could be about. He shouldn't burst in when Alya was there anyway, that girl was a fiend when it came to him and Ladybug, but it was hard to resist the temptation to listen in when they were talking about him. 

“So who is he?” Alya sounded like she'd got hold of the juiciest piece of news, but had only been given half the story. She was clearly desperate to know.

“I'm not telling you, you'll make a scene.”

“Girl, I will make a scene anyway if you don't tell me. You can't just drop the bombshell that you're over Adrien and you like someone else and not tell me who the someone else is.”

Chat's eyes widened, but his ears drooped. Marinette was 'over' him?

“I'm not _over_ Adrien, Alya, I still,” she faltered, as only Marinette could, “he's still,” she made a noise of frustration. “It's complicated.”

Alya's murmur was highly skeptical. Chat could picture her with her arms folded, looking at Marinette critically. “Is it Kim? Oh, wait, you like them skinny. Nathanael?”

“No! It's not Kim or Nathanael.” Marinette huffed, unhappily. “I never should have said anything.”

“Yeah, but you did, and now I need to know because if whoever it is breaks your heart, I have to go and break their legs.”

“Alya.”

“My offer to break Adrien's legs still stands.”

“ _Alya_.”

“I promise you he won't.”

“Adrien hasn't hurt me!”

“At this point, girl, pain might be the only way for you to get the message to him.”

Chat heard Marinette break into laughter. “You're the best friend I could wish for, Alya.”

“Darn tootin',” Alya replied. “I'm still trying to think of what other guys you know that fit your type.”

“I don't have a type!”

“You so do. Chat Noir?”

There was silence, which was eventually broken by Alya. “Oh my god, it's Chat Noir, isn't it? _Marinette_.”

“Not one word, Alya!”

“First a model, now a superhero, damn you aim high.”

“I never should have said anything.”

“Does he know?”

More silence.

“ _Oh my god you're dating Chat Noir._ ”

“We're not dating!”

“I caught you kissing him! And to think I believed you when you said it was just a peck on the cheek. I'm hurt that you were able to lie to me like that.”

“That wasn't a lie! We just,” Marinette faltered again, “it's recent, okay?”

“Right,” Alya said, rallying, “well, first, I want you to know that even though he's a superhero, I will still totally break his legs for you if I have to.”

Marinette giggled, and even Chat spared the idea a smile. Marinette wasn't kidding about Alya being a great friend.

“I thought he was crazy about Ladybug?” Alya asked.

“He is,” Marinette answered, “or was. I don't know, I don't really ask.”

“You should.”

“I don't need to know. It doesn't matter. He knows I still have a crush on Adrien, too, and he's okay with that because he knows I love him even more, and,” she hesitated, “I'm pretty sure he loves me more than he does Ladybug, romantically, at least. He loves her deeply, but that's okay with me, because I know I'm not second place.”

Chat felt the smile creep across his face as he curled his fist and clutched it against his heart. How had he been so luck to win her attention? She was so sweet, and gentle, and understanding. He still loved Ladybug, and Marinette wasn't jealous of that.

And she'd fallen for him twice! Adrien, and Chat Noir. The girl was like lightning striking. Marinette's ability to love him balanced out every ounce of misfortune that came from Plagg.

He crept away again with a smile on his face. He'd have to come and visit her later, but for now, he didn't want to intrude.


	17. 3am Talk

Marinette was roused, reluctantly, by the persistent poke and prod of a knuckle into her arm. She rolled over, away from the poking, and a voice entered her awareness.

“Princess?” Another poke, this time between her shoulder blades. “Princess, wake up.”

“What is it, Chat?” She asked, yawning as she rolled over to look at him. There was barely any light in the room, but his green eyes and pale hair stood out amongst the grey shades of everything else. “Another nightmare?” He seemed too chipper for that, but she knew he had them, and after the very worst ones he'd come and cuddle with her until his tears dried.

“No,” Chat said, his voice a whisper, and he leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait?” She asked, through a yawn. Sleep was trying to claim her again, and it was tempting to just rest back into the pillows and let it take her.

“No,” he said, his lips pressed to her cheek, and his breath brushed over her ear. “This should never wait.”

Marinette murmured, and made the effort to be more awake. “What is it, kitten?” She asked, wrapping one arm around his invitingly warm body, so close to hers, and tugging him close. She pulled him down to her side, and snuggled herself in against his chest. His arm encircled her back and clawed fingers played into her hair.

“I love you, Marinette.”

Marinette waited for more, and realised there wasn't going to be any more. That was it, that was all he'd come to say. “Chat,” she said, “that could have waited until morning.”

“No it couldn't,” Chat replied, burying his nose into her hair and breathing her in. “When you love someone you need to tell them, you can't hold it in and wait, because what if they're gone before you get to say it?”

Marinette listened to him, her sleepy mind working hard to make sense of his reasoning. Chat had lost people he loved, she knew that, and she ached for him, but still, it must be three in the morning. “You're not going to lose me before morning, Chat, I promise.”

“I still wanted you to know,” he replied, softly, kissing her hair and then curling up against her, relaxing into her pillows. The whole room smelled of her, the bed smelled of her shampoo and sleep, and he lost himself in it.

Marinette sighed, her legs tangling with his as she settled down to sleep again. She could hear his breathing falling into a slow and steady rhythm, and the fingers stroking through her hair slowed, and stilled.

“Chat?” She asked, in a whisper.

He murmured, not yet asleep, but not fully awake, either. “Mm?”

“I love you, too.”


	18. The Chat Noir Doll

“You should sell these,” Alya said, turning the Ladybug doll over in her hands. She hadn't picked up the Lady Wifi one, it brought back some bad memories. “I bet you'd get loads of buyers on the Ladyblog.”

Marinette murmured, holding the Chat Noir doll's hands between her fingers as she wiggled him. “I don't really want to spend all my time making these, though. I just did them for fun.”

Alya murmured, thoughtfully. “So do a limited run,” she suggested. “You could use the money to buy materials for your designs, then,” she said, gesturing towards the mannequin, which was draped in a sheet to hide the black skirt with hand stitched green pawprints on the pockets. Marinette hadn't wanted Chat to see it until she was done.

“I guess,” Marinette said, thoughtfully. “But what if there's another akuma like Manon became?” She frowned, looking at the dolls. “You and Chat both got controlled through them.”

Alya screwed up her nose. She remembered, and she wished she didn't. “Lightning doesn't strike twice,” she said. “Or at least, it hasn't so far.”

Marinette frowned. “Have you ever looked at the Eiffel Tower in a storm?”

“Not the same kind of lightning,” Alya pointed out, with a grin.

They both paused and looked up at the sound of footsteps on Marinette's balcony above them. “Is he always that heavy footed?” Alya asked.

Marinette smiled. “No, he's just letting us know he's here.” She rolled her eyes when there was a knock on her trapdoor, that she was rapidly coming to think of as the Chat Flap, and then it opened. She expected a blond head to peek through, with a mischievous grin adorning the face below it. Instead feet appeared, swinging through with perfect form as Chat Noir vaulted through like an acrobat, tumbling in midair to land crouched on two feet and one hand, his other thrust dramatically to the side.

It had the intended effect on Alya, who looked thoroughly glassy eyed and gleeful.

“Ladies,” he said, straightening up, with his cocky smirk, and standing like a prince introducing himself at a ball.

“Stop showing off,” Marinette told him, rolling her eyes. That stuff hadn't worked on her when she'd first met him as herself, had spectacularly failed to work on her afterwards, and now had rather the opposite of the intended effect because she thought it was ridiculously adorable instead of impressively hot. “Alya, Chat Noir, Chat, Alya,” she said, waving a hand between the two of them as introduction. “I know you've met, but that was a bit different.”

“Can you do that entrance again?” Alya asked, preparing her phone. “I didn't catch it properly.”

Chat grinned, broadly, and Marinette sighed. That was when he saw it. “What's this?” He asked, walking over to her and picking the plush doll she'd made of him up.

Marinette stumbled over her words, awkwardly. “Uh, the dolls The Puppeteer used to control you,” she said, uncomfortably. “I made them. Alya thinks I should make more and sell them.”

Chat looked at her, and smiled with genuine sweet affection. “I don't think you should sell them,” he said, his voice gentle. “If it can be used to control me, I want to know it's in safe hands,” he said, taking Marinette's hand and wrapping it around the doll. His eye contact with her burned, and Marinette swallowed.

“You guys are _adorable_ ,” Alya said, looking at her phone screen as she recorded the two of them.


	19. Secrets

The transformation lifted as Marinette dropped onto her balcony. She'd made it home with two spots to spare, and an exhilarated grin on her face. That last one had gone well, or as well as an akuma fight could be expected to go, and she'd even got to fluster Chat by asking him where he was off to so fast from patrols these days.

He hadn't formally told Ladybug about himself and Marinette, after all, and watching him stammer and flush when she'd threatened to follow him so she could vet his girlfriend and give her the Ladybug seal of approval had been both wicked, and delightful fun. His cheeks had gone pink, his eyes had gone wide, and he'd stammered in his haste to put her off.

She smiled to herself, getting ready to go back inside when she glimpsed the flash of black accelerating in her direction. Chat Noir landed on her roof and looked up at her with a smirk.

“Chat,” she said, her surprise genuine. She hadn't expected him to come her way. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to come and warn you,” he said. “Ladybug said she might drop by.”

Marinette looked amused. “Think we'll get into a cat fight over you?” She asked.

“Ooh,” Chat's face lit up, “good one.”

“I spend too much time around you,” Marinette said, mentally kicking herself. That pun hadn't even been intentional. Chat looked delighted regardless.

An ominous and familiar beep sounded, and Marinette looked at Chat's ring, and the flashing paw. “Chat!” He was going to detransform right there on her balcony, right in front of her.

He looked at his ring, looked at her, and then asked, “Do you want to know who I am under this?”

“No!” Marinette shouted, covering her face with her hands. “Yes,” she corrected, “I don't,” she whimpered. “Go, Chat, please? I'm not ready.”

She felt his hands pull her away from her eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut, tightly. “I want you to know, Marinette.”

She bit her lip, and cursed herself because she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't force herself to open her eyes. She shook her head, keeping them squeezed shut. “It's not that I don't want to know,” she explained, her voice quiet, and small, “it's just that if anything happened, if I gave you away,” she squeezed her hands into fists, but Chat's hands were still around her wrists, though his grip was never tight. “I don't want to be a liability, I don't want to be something that can be held over you.”

“You'd never be that,” his voice said, and the beeping had stopped, and she knew, knew he must be in his normal clothes, now. If she opened her eyes he'd be right there, the boy she loved, right there for her to touch, and kiss, and call by name, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

“Chat,” she whispered, “I don't want to spend my dreams seeing the thousand ways I could lose you. If I don't know, it keeps you safe, at least for now. Please?”

His hands loosed their hold on her wrists, and she felt them drop rather than saw them. “Fine,” he said, softly. “Then at least give me this?”

Marinette swallowed as his hand, a bare, warm, slightly callused hand, pressed over her eyes. She felt his breath against her lips before she felt the kiss, and it was soft, and tender, and she reached out blindly to wrap her arms round him.

“Promise me,” she said, when his lips pulled away from hers, “that you'll defeat Hawk Moth as quickly as you can?” She asked.

“I promise,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again.

She enjoyed it for a long, long moment, and then he pulled back, and a thought occurred to her. “Chat?” She frowned, keeping her eyes shut as his hand slipped away from her eyes. “How are you going to get off my roof?”

There was a silence that went on for long enough that Marinette could tell he was thinking fast. Eventually he asked, “Got any cheese?”


	20. Revelations

“Out with it,” Ladybug said, at the end of their patrol. They'd met up, split up, circled around the city, and met up again on the other side without incident. Hawk Moth was probably tucked up in bed with his bunny slippers and a hot chocolate, which was near enough what Marinette wanted to be doing, but Hawk Moth didn't have a partner that was acting weird. Marinette hadn't seen him since he'd threatened to reveal himself.

He looked at her, his expression blank, as if she'd dragged him from his thoughts, and that was odd because Chat Noir rarely seemed to think much when they were together, revelling in the freedom of the superhero role. He hadn't flirted, hadn't even cracked a pun, not even a really bad one, since they'd met up. “You're distracted,” she said, firmly, but kindly, when he continued to look simply blank, “what's on your mind?”

She saw Chat Noir look at her, seeming to make up his mind about something before he sighed. “It's a girl,” he said, quietly. His shoulders slumped.

“A girl,” Ladybug repeated, and Marinette knew this was about herself. “Is this the girlfriend you don't want me to go and check out?”

Chat looked at her again, and then looked around at the rooftop they'd ended their patrol at. It seemed secluded enough. “I've fallen in love with her,” he said, softly.

Ladybug could only bring herself to reply, “A-ha?” Waiting for Chat to continue, but not trusting herself not to start prying. It was kind of fun to hear him talk about her civilian self to Ladybug.

“She's incredible, and beautiful, and so smart, and creative, and,” he paused, and sighed, his head dropping like his shoulders, “I can't even tell her who I really am because of Hawk Moth. I can't afford to put her at that kind of risk.”

“There's an answer to that,” Ladybug said, calmly. “Defeat Hawk Moth.”

“We don't know where to start!” Chat cried, finding the voice for his exasperation. “He sends out akuma, we fight the people infected by them, you purify the akuma, well played, everything goes back the way it was, and Hawk Moth gets to sit anonymously in his villainous lair with us no closer to finding him, let alone stopping him.” He looked downcast.

Ladybug looked at him, and put her hand on his shoulder. “There are more reasons to stop him than a girl, you know.”

“I know that,” he said, despondently, “but I love her so much it scares me, because I don't know how I'd react if anything hurt her, and I can't even get close to her without the mask because she wouldn't do that to me, so I'm stuck putting her at risk every time I go to see her. I can't even stay away. I haven't seen her in three days, and my stomach's in knots.”

“Four,” Marinette said, without thinking. Chat looked up at her sharply, a question in his expression, and she thought quickly. “You usually see her a couple of times a week, and you go after patrolling with me. We cancelled the last patrol because of an akuma, four days ago.”

“How do you--?”

“You start getting distracted and uptight, then you always head in the same direction when we're done on the nights you relax.”

She could see Chat mulling this information over in his mind. “How long have you known?”

Ladybug smiled at him. “Long enough. Since before you tried to convince everyone you liked Chloe Bourgeois. Which I never believed, by the way.” Her smile turned into a wicked grin and Chat returned it with a nervous one. “Is she really this amazing?” Ladybug asked, because shoot her, it was cute the way he gushed. “Your girlfriend, I mean.”

Chat's expression softened as he looked utterly lovestruck. “She's,” he began, and faltered, and then sighed. “You'd like her,” he said, as if that was the only description he could give that mattered. “She's as smart and as strong as you, even if she doesn't know it.”

Marinette laughed, couldn't help but laugh. “That just means smarter than you, kitten,” she teased. “That's not a very high bar.”

“Ouch,” Chat replied, flatly, but there was a delighted amusement in his eyes.

“I'm glad you're happy,” she said, and she meant it, in every possible way that she could mean it.

“I am,” he replied, before adding, “but I'd be happier if I could take her on a date.”

“Well then,” Ladybug said, straightening up and giving him a self assured smirk, “we'll have to stop Hawk Moth getting in the way of your love life, won't we?”


	21. Without The Mask

“What colour are your eyes?” Marinette asked, looking up from her stitching to glance at the costumed boy currently draped happily across her chaise with a box of macarons. He was getting crumbs everywhere, and she pursed her lips in disapproval.

Chat guiltily brushed crumbs off his chest at the expression on her face before he answered, “Green.”

“I mean without the mask,” Marinette said, looking back at her stitching as she carefully embroidered the pawprint in bright green thread.

Chat sat up, smiling. “Still green,” he said. “I'm as hot out of the suit as I am in it.” Marinette gave him a look so flat it could be tarmacked and Chat flashed her a bright grin. “I thought you liked my eyes?” He asked, teasingly.

Marinette looked away again, shyly. “They're the suit's eyes,” she said, after a moment, “I just wondered what yours were like.” She bit her lip, turning back to her stitches.

“What do you want them to be?” Chat asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to look at Marinette, really look at her. She'd spent some time thinking about this, he realised, ever since he'd detransformed on her balcony.

“Yours,” she answered, softly. Her cheeks coloured, and she refused to look up at him. “I just realised that,” she hesitated, and Chat could feel her lining her words up behind her tongue so that she explained this properly, “you could have red hair and eyes like Juleka under there for all I know, and I wondered if this is what it's like being in love when you're blind. I have this mental image of you, in my head, and I don't know if it's even close to what you really look like, and it doesn't matter because no matter what you look like you're still you, but I am still curious.”

_No matter what you look like._ He caught those words and felt his heart go soft and mushy, a reaction he had to Marinette's silly rambling thoughts more often than he tended to admit. She got carried away in her thoughts, sometimes. He wondered if her mental picture of him looked like Adrien Agreste, or whether she'd have scrubbed that mental image deliberately out of deference to the fact that picturing her boyfriend as her crush had some uncomfortable connotations. Even if it was accurate. “I'm blond,” he said, standing up, and walking over towards her, “I have green eyes, I'm the same height,” he took Marinette's hand, noticing for the first time that she was carefully hand embroidering a series of green pawprints along the hem of a skirt.

She looked up into his eyes and he looked into hers before he knelt in front of her and placed her hand to his cheek. “My hair's tidier when I haven't been running across rooftops,” he said, taking her other hand and placing that on his cheek too. He saw her swallow. “Close your eyes?”

Marinette bit her lip, and Chat's heart did a little flip in his chest. When she closed her eyes, her hands on his cheeks, he lifted the transformation. Plagg zipped up and away out of his ring, and into his pocket. He heard a faint grumble about stupid, sappy teenagers.

Marinette must have felt the shift, because she protested, “Chat!” Her eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they'd been that day on her balcony.

“Maybe you can't see it with your eyes,” he said, covering one of her hands with his own, “but you can still see me in your head.”

Marinette inhaled, a deep, slow, shaky breath before her fingers moved, carefully and gently. Adrien stayed absolutely still as her fingertips brushed gently over his upper lip, feeling the contours of the ridge below his nose, and then trailing inexorably upwards. She trailed her fingers over the tip of his nose and further, the pads of her fingers brushing his eyelashes as he closed his eyes for her to touch the delicate, soft skin of his eyelids. She stroked the arch of his eyebrow, and up his forehead to his hairline, using both hands to follow that all the way down and round to find his ears.

He watched her as she explored his face, her lip bitten in concentration as one of her hands cupped the side of his jaw, and her other wound its way through his hair. He pressed his hand to the back of hers again before he mirrored her, placing his other hand to her cheek, stroking her soft skin with his bare thumb. He needed to do this more often, he did not touch her enough without the suit resting between them.

She inhaled sharply as he leaned forwards, but relaxed when he touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth, and then pressed in to cover her lips with his own. He let go of her hand to put his arm around her waist, and she let her own hand drift down, away from his cheek. He felt her wrap her arm around his chest as he kissed her, deeply and sweetly, and explore slowly down his back to the end of his shirt.

Then it went lower and he startled, feeling her grin against his mouth as she squeezed his butt with her hand.

“Well, that feels how I imagined it,” she whispered.

Adrien wondered if she could feel the heat from his blush against her face.


	22. Minion Marinette

“All shall love me and despair!”

Marinette groaned as she looked in the direction of the voice. Was it too much to ask that she got one nice afternoon out with her friends without an Akuma showing up? She'd even been having a conversation with Adrien! An actual, proper conversation, where she only barely tripped over her words, and only blushed when he smiled and winked at her, taking her hand and telling Nino that he and Marinette could take him and Alya down in a water fight any time.

She'd been enjoying herself, damn it. She'd been having a good time in the park with her friends, and here came an Akuma to ruin it.

Adrien's hand grasped hers more tightly as he looked too, his eyes wide, and jaw set. He looked as annoyed as she felt.

“Run,” he said, tugging her arm to drive her ahead of him. Her every instinct screamed at her to put Adrien before herself, but so long as he was close and she didn't lose him, she could bite it back. She needed to get her friends out of here.

That included Alya.

“Alya!” She shouted. Nino was keeping up with them, but Alya had peeled away and dragged her phone from her pocket.

Adrien's hand slipped around Marinette's waist as he pushed her onwards. “I'll get her,” he said, “keep going.”

“Don't need to tell me twice!” Nino said, running ahead.

Marinette ran another couple of steps, and then stopped, and turned to find Adrien nowhere to be seen. She couldn't let him run back there, he was in too much danger, and she could see Alya standing stock still, her phone pointed at the approaching akuma which was turning everyone it could reach with the sweep of a hand into a loyal worshipper.

“Alya!” She shouted, running back for her friend, legs pumping, heart racing. She needed to find Adrien, but he was nowhere in sight, which meant Alya was in more immediate danger. Fear gripped at her throat as she reached Alya, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her backwards.

“These are great shots!” She cried, but she didn't seem bothered or offended that Marinette was ruining them.

“Come on!” Marinette yelled, dragging Alya with her.

She felt it before she saw it, the wave of energy approaching, from the right hand side as the akuma advanced, and swept towards them to attack.

She felt the blur of black and golden hair barrel into her and Alya, picking her up right off her feet, her legs flying in the air behind him as he ran, Marinette under one arm, and Alya under the other.

She clung to Chat as he ran, all the way up to where Nino was hiding before he deposited them both. He put Alya down a little less carefully than he did Marinette.

“You need to be more careful,” he said, and Marinette blinked, stunned, her thanks, and requests to him to find Adrien too dying in her throat. She'd never seen him look like that before. Was it fear, or anger? She couldn't tell.

When Chat turned without another word and vaulted back towards the akuma with his baton, Marinette wasn't sure if he could tell which it was, either.


	23. Angry Kiss

He was sulking. Chat had landed on her balcony that evening, and she could hear him pacing, back and forth, as if he was trying to work out what to say to her. Marinette climbed onto her bed and opened her trap door to peer up at him.

He paused to look at her, and then looked away, resuming his pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. His tail twitched with irritation, and Marinette wondered how it worked. It was only a belt; she'd pulled it many a time, after all, but it moved like a real cat's.

“You're angry with me,” she said, climbing out onto the balcony and looking at him.

He paused to look at her, and then turned away again. “You could have been made into that akuma's minion,” he said. It was all he said.

Marinette folded her arms, resting her weight on one leg as she watched Chat Noir pace, and avoid looking at her. He didn't cope well with being angry at people, she realised. He didn't do well with facing up to emotions that weren't sweet and soft and fluffy. He wanted to shout, and tell her off for being reckless, for scaring him, for making him face the possibility of living through one of his own nightmares, and he _couldn't_ , because whoever Chat Noir was underneath the mask, he was really, really bad at confronting people he loved. “You've got in the way of akuma attacks before,” she pointed out, “you've turned on Ladybug because of them.”

He stopped, and Marinette could see the tension in his shoulders and his back, but he didn't dare to look at her. She walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. She wanted him to look at her. “What's so different if it's me?”

The air hung, pregnant and silent for a moment between them, before the air exploded. “I couldn't fight you!” He shouted. It was like someone had released a valve, erupting with force, that quickly died away. “I couldn't hurt you! I could never...” He trailed off, and his shoulders shook. “If you....”

Marinette frowned. “Not even if you had to?” She asked. It was a challenge. She'd had to fight him many times as Ladybug, and she hated it, but it was necessary. She always told herself that. It would be fine when she could purify the akuma and he'd be free again. Okay, so she was Ladybug, and if she was turned into an akuma's minion that would only be the start of the problems, but Chat Noir didn't know that.

“I would never forgive myself,” he said, quietly. He still wasn't looking at her.

“I'd forgive you,” she said.

He stopped, and turned, the question in his expression as much as his voice. “Why?”

Marinette shrugged, walking forwards to stand in front of him, leaning against her balcony on her forearms. She thought about it for a moment. It was, to her, a stupid question. Why wouldn't she forgive him? He'd be fighting Hawk Moth, not her, he'd be fighting the dark influences of their enemy's power, and its hold over people, but how to explain that to Chat if it wasn't how he viewed things already? “You forgive Ladybug,” she said, turning.

“That's different,” he said, folding his arms. He didn't meet her eyes, but his expression showed a quiet sort of pain.

“How?” Marinette asked. It was a question, not a challenge, this time. She wanted to get to the bottom of how Chat viewed the situation, of how he thought it was different to have to hurt her to protect her compared to making Ladybug hurt him, compared to hurting any of her friends to save them.

“That's me.” He said. It was all he said.

“That doesn't make it different to me,” Marinette told him.

“It does to me!” Chat said, uncrossing his arms to wave them, trying to shape his thoughts and feelings with his hands where words were failing him. “You're,” he began, advancing on her half a step, “you're not the one fighting the akuma! You're not meant to be involved in this fight against Hawk Moth! I can't,” he stopped, his face crumpling, “if you were compromised,” his voice went weak, “I couldn't...”

Marinette bit the inside of her lip and scowled. He wanted her to be safe, which was sweet, and he didn't want civilians to get hurt by Hawk Moth, which was fine. He was right, even. They were both working hard to keep her association with him on the downlow so that she wasn't at more risk from Hawk Moth, so that her family wasn't more at risk, and to spare Chat the guilt of them being more at risk.

But she was Ladybug. This was her fight as much as his. _And she couldn't even tell him that_.

She growled, snapping forward to grab Chat Noir by the back of the head and kiss him forcefully. She loved this stupid, infuriating idiot cat, and he didn't even know how much he infuriated her. He stiffened in her grip, and then relaxed, the tension slowly melting out of his shoulders and his hands slipping around her waist.

He was breathless when she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. “This is an order, Chat Noir,” she said, her voice level, and calm, “if I am akumatised, if I fall victim to one, if I lose my mind and come to hurt you, I need to trust that you will stop me.” Her fingers curled into his hair, gripping him tight as she closed her eyes. “Not Ladybug,” she said, “ _you_.” She couldn't risk him shying away from fighting her and waiting for Ladybug, she'd need him to save her first, even if that meant hurting her. “I need to trust you never to let me hurt you,” she told him, opening her eyes, and finding his green ones wide and bare inches from her own. “I need to trust you to save me from myself, or from Hawk Moth, or from who or whatever might hurt me, or might use me to get to you, no matter what you have to do.”

She heard a protest begin in his throat, and she interrupted it before it began. “I know you'll only go as far as you have to,” she said, pulling him closer against herself so that her head rested on his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and she heard him gulp.

“But--”

“No buts.” She said, with a strength she wasn't sure she felt, with the way he was holding her. He was clinging, not hugging, like he was afraid of losing her. “I won't be a weakness. I won't be a liability. You save me, like you've saved every one of my classmates, do you hear?”

Somehow, he managed to hold her more tightly. “Yes,” he said, eventually, and quietly.

She sighed, burying her face against his shoulder. “And in return,” she said, more quietly, “I promise to do my best not to put you in that situation.”

His clawed fingers worked their way up into her hair, and he tucked his chin on top of her head before he said, “Thank you.”

Marinette swallowed hard before she replied, simply, “You're welcome.”


	24. Hospital Visits

Marinette’s head throbbed and her vision swam. At the edge of her vision, someone moved, someone slight, and clad in black. She murmured softly, and they stilled.

“Princess?” A voice, a male voice whispered. There was only one person that called her that, and dimly, Marinette was aware that it was a term of endearment in the same way that pulling pigtails could be considered affectionate.

“Chat?” She tried to sit up, and her head pounded, making her groan.

He shushed her. “Lie down, it’s okay,” he whispered. He was only whispering. He was trying to be quiet, she realised. “Do you know where you are?”

Marinette closed her eyes again, because her head hurt less when she did. “Hospital,” she replied, softly.

“You weren’t in school,” Chat said, in a whisper, “I heard. It must have been a nasty fall.”

Marinette murmured again, settling down into the pillow. The room smelled of disinfectant, and starched linen. “Tripped,” she told him, softly, “down the stairs. It’s just a concussion.”

“A bad one,” Chat whispered. Marinette jumped slightly when a cool hand pressed against her cheek. “How am I supposed to protect you if you go throwing yourself down the stairs when I’m not around?”

Marinette opened her eyes again, and her vision swam, until the ripples settled into the black clad, blond haired, green eyed boy looking down at her as if it was a genuine question. “Can’t protect me from everything,” she whispered, to him.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, his voice less quiet than it had been, but his tones still low, and soothing to her ears.

“It’s only twenty four hour observation,” she said, “I’ll be back home tomorrow.”

She saw Chat smile, and lean forward to press a kiss to her temple. “I hope that’s a promise,” he said.

Marinette smiled, weakly. She was very tired, and her memory echoed with the advice of the nurses. ‘Sleep’, they’d said, 'it helps the brain recover’. She remembered tripping at the top of her stairs, but she didn’t remember hitting the bottom. Now she had an aching head and blurred vision for her troubles.

Chat stepped aside and repositioned a vase full of pink tulips that hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep. “You brought me flowers?” She asked.

Chat scratched the back of his neck, and she saw the blush rising up his cheeks. “It seemed a better idea than grapes,” he said, awkwardly.

Marinette smiled, hopelessly. “Silly cat,” she told him. “You’d better go before you’re seen.”

Chat smiled, his teeth shining in the low light. “They check on you every hour,” he said, “I’ve got fifteen minutes yet.”

“Chat,” she said, unable to help her smile, and chuckle, even though it hurt to laugh, “go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be waiting.” He loosened his grip, moving away when Marinette suddenly tightened hers, and tugged him closer. Chat looked at her, eyes wide and sparkling in the hospital lights, and then he seemed to get the idea.

He leaned down, and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. Only then did she let him go. “Thank you for the flowers.”

He smiled, softly, and then they both heard the faint footfalls of someone approaching the ward. He looked up sharply, and Marinette watched him bolt.


	25. Rescued

“Marinette!”

Marinette glanced over her shoulder and winced before taking a sharp turn to her left and rounding her way back inside the school as fast as she could manage without outright running. She stopped inside the doorway, taking shelter behind the wall, and sighed. They'd been crawling over themselves to get a shot of her leaving home this morning. Her papa had forcibly ejected two of them from the shop when they'd lingered without buying anything. She hadn't been able to get home for lunch, either, and she desperately needed to have a talk with her parents about what was going on.

Or they desperately needed to have a talk with her. Marinette wasn't sure if she'd be relieved afterwards or not. How did you explain to your parents that you, their teenage daughter, had been seeing a teenage boy dressed in black leather on a regular basis, without informing them?

“Marinette?”

Marinette looked up into the concerned face of Adrien, his bag slung easily over his shoulder. “Are you--?” He began, and then he leaned to one side a little, noticing movement outside the school gates, and the pre-emptive pop of bulbs. “Oh.”

Marinette flushed, and cringed in on herself. “It's all right, I just,” she began, and then bit her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. If she needed to, she could change into Ladybug in the bathrooms, and take off via the roof. She could get away from them. “They keep following me.”

Adrien frowned, his shoulders slumping for a moment. He stepped forward, and for one crazy moment Marinette thought he was going to pull her into a hug, but he stopped at putting a hand on her shoulder in supportive, and thoughtful silence. “I'm sorry, Marinette,” he said.

She laughed, but it was closer to desperate hysteria than humour. “It's not your fault,” she said. She leaned again, risking a glance through the doorway, and a camera flash put spots of pink in front of her eyes. She pulled back again, blinking. “You must be used to this,” she said, dully.

Adriens' face suddenly lit up, as if he'd had a brainwave. “I know,” he said, confidently, giving her one of those winning smiles that made her stomach flip and reminded her painfully of Chat Noir. Marinette watched, slightly bewildered, as Adrien reached into his bag, retrieved his phone, and called someone.

“Hey, Nathalie?” He said, beaming from ear to ear, “I'm going to need picking up from inside the building.” A pause as something was said on the other end of the line, and then Adrien said, “Yeah, and I've got a friend with me who needs to get home, so I've offered her a ride.”

Friend. Marinette's ears caught that word, and her brain stuck there. Adrien was calling her a friend, to his father's personal assistant. If today hadn't been so awful with paparazzi following her every turn, she'd be walking on air now.

“Thanks, Nathalie,” Adrien said, before he hung up and put his phone away. He gave Marinette another one of those winning smiles. “Help is on its way.”

Within two minutes, there was an eruption of indignant yells from the crowd outside. Sixty seconds later, Adrien's bodyguard was blocking the doorway to the school. He wasn't intentionally blocking it, he was just so large that blocking it was a consequence of him standing nearby. Two cameras dangled from his fist, lazily, and he looked at Marinette impassively.

“This is Marinette,” Adrien said, “she lives at the bakery nearby, remember?” The Gorilla didn't speak, but Adrien seemed to understand some cue that Marinette had missed. “We can take her home first.”

The trip to the limousine was every bit as harrowing as the journey to school had been that morning, but it was over much faster. Adrien's bodyguard shepherded them both to the back of the car, and Adrien stood aside to let Marinette climb in first. She shuffled over to let Adrien climb in after her, and found herself next to Nathalie.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I presume?” She said.

Marinette coloured as Adrien settled into the seat next to her. “Yes,” she said, quietly.

“Chat Noir's girlfriend,” she said, as if it was a second, widely known title of Marinette's.

Marinettte slunk down in her seat. “Yes,” she said, much more quietly, clasping her hands in her lap. She looked up sharply at a hand going to her shoulder again, and found herself meeting Adrien's soft, concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, and sighed. “He's going to be horrified,” she said.

Adrien kept his hand on her shoulder, but ran his other hand into the back of his own hair, looking away, awkwardly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I don't think he'd like that you're going through this.”

Marinette clutched her bag. Tikki was inside, laying low, laying extra low at the moment. It was bad enough to be outed as Chat Noir's girlfriend, it was another thing entirely to risk exposing herself as Ladybug. She'd have to be extra careful of any potential audience, now. “If I wasn't so clumsy,” she said, trailing off.

“He's the idiot that got caught visiting you in hospital,” Adrien said, and he sounded at once annoyed, and apologetic about it.

Marinette shook her head. “No, I'm glad he visited,” she said, her frown deepening. “It was sweet,” and as ill thought through as ninety percent of Chat's other schemes, but that was part of his charm. “But I know he's going to feel guilty now, and blame himself when really,” she looked down at her bag, “it was going to happen eventually anyway. This is just sooner than we were prepared for.”

She looked up to find Adrien staring at her, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes wide. He rallied when she made eye contact with him, and then blushed and looked back down at her bag. “I suppose you're right,” he said, looking away himself. “We'll get through it,” he said, with a faint nod.

Marinette looked up at him again, puzzled at his choice of words. He caught her look, and flashed her a winning, if slightly awkward smile. “If you ever need rescuing, I'm right here,” he said. Then he laughed, self consciously. “Assuming Chat Noir isn't around, I mean.”

Marinette smiled, softly. “Thank you, Adrien.”


	26. Sick

“If you want me to be honest, Chat, I'm worried sick, and so are they.” The conversation with her parents had been intense, and they'd made it quite clear that they wanted to meet Marinette's boyfriend, saviour of Paris or not. Marinette had to wonder whether her papa would meet Chat the confident, sweet superhero, or the awkward teenage boy he was beneath that. She couldn't see Chat keeping up his grins, posturing, and puns in the face of her protective father, although it would be fun to see him try. “They think I'm in danger from Hawk Moth,” she said. They were probably right.

“I'm so sorry, Marinette,” he said, tucking his mouth against her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut as he held her tightly from behind. He'd had a harder time than usual getting to her balcony unseen, and they hadn't been able to risk standing there together because someone with a telephoto lens had already caught sight of him kissing her goodbye last night. It had been all over the internet all day, and all over the magazines by that evening.

“It'll blow over,” she said, putting her hands over his and giving him a confident smile that she didn't feel. “Adrien's taking me to school every day, and back again,” she added. “The press are just an annoyance.”

Chat lifted his head up to quirk an eyebrow at her, cheekily. “Should I be jealous?” He asked. “My girlfriend's getting limo rides from a model.”

Marinette laughed. “Silly cat,” she teased, leaning in to press her lips to his cheek. “Maybe if Adrien had been the one to get caught sneaking into the hospital ward to visit me,” she told him, with a grin. She'd pressed the flowers when she'd got home, and was intent on making a box frame for them so she could hang them up, but she hadn't told Chat about this. He laughed, and settled in to cuddle her tight again.

“We'll just have to be really careful,” she told him.

His arms tightened around her. “What if someone comes for you?” He asked. “What if Hawk Moth--?”

“Then we'll deal with it,” she said, cutting him off before he got himself worked up and gave himself nightmares again, “when it happens, if it happens. I'm not helpless,” she pointed out. “I can take care of myself.”

Chat sighed, and hugged her closer. “I still worry,” he said, softly.

“We'll get through it,” Marinette said, and Chat turned his head to look her in the eyes at the words. She offered him a warm smile. “You're not the only one looking out for me. Don't take it all on yourself. I want you to be my boyfriend, not my bodyguard.” He sighed, and nodded, and Marinette sighed too. “Now papa,” she said, humour back in her voice, “he might have other ideas.”

Chat would never admit to the nervous little squeak that came from him at the impending meeting of Marinette's parents and formal introduction as her boyfriend, but he made it nonetheless.


	27. Kidnapped

Adrien had been flicking idly through channels, killing time before a photoshoot that afternoon. He'd been relieved when interest had begun to die down in Marinette, and she'd been safe so far. Ladybug had suggested they make a public plea to the press to leave Marinette alone, and he'd agreed eagerly, glad that Ladybug was willing to help without him even having to ask her. It seemed to have worked, too. There were still occasional photos, but the overall intrusiveness had died down a lot. Adrien still took her to and from school every day, but he told her it was just to make sure she was safe. No other reason.

'Breaking News' interrupted his channel hopping and he groaned. They always reported akuma sightings like this. It wasn't that he disliked going to fight the akuma, of course, as much as one could be said to like going out to fight some poor distressed person who had been hijacked by a supervillain, it just would have been nicer if Hawk Moth could have waited until after his photoshoot to send one out.

“Plagg,” he said, holding his fist, and dormant ring in the air, and then he stopped, his hand falling, horror crossing his face as the rest of the report played.

“We have unconfirmed reports that the akuma has kidnapped Marinette Dupain. These images were taken of her balcony this morning.”

There was one of Marinette stood, in fighting stance, facing off against someone in a weird approximation of a postal uniform. The next picture showed her being flung across her own balcony, the next was the akuma putting her in his bag as if she was a common parcel. Adrien felt his mouth go dry and his heart beat its way up his throat.

“We can now go live to the scene,” the reporter said, “where the akuma claims to have a message for Chat Noir.”

The akuma, titled by the news ticker as 'The Deliverer', stood in front of the statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir, holding an envelope.

The TV played on as Chat Noir exited Adrien's window, moving as fast as he could, and trying desperately to get in touch with Ladybug. She had to have seen the report, she had to know. 

She had to.

*****

Marinette grumbled as she forced herself to sit up. She could taste cotton in her mouth, and it muffled the sound. Her hands were fast behind her back, too. At first she thought she'd been blindfolded as well, but then she turned, wiggling awkwardly to get a look at her surroundings. There was a large, circular window in one wall, and in the pool of light from the window stood a man.

She'd never seen him before, not in person, but she'd know him anywhere.

“Welcome, miss Dupain-Cheng,” Hawk Moth said, sounding genuinely gracious, and all the more dangerous for it. Marinette tried to work her wrists free, tried to see Tikki. She needed to get out of here, she needed to transform and now. “You don't need to struggle,” Hawk Moth said, “once I have Chat Noir's Miraculous, I will let you go.” He walked towards her, and Marinette shuffled back a little, watching him approach. “I have no intention of harming either of you. I require only his ring.” He stopped a short distance away and held his hand out, uncurling his fingers for her to see what he held.

Her earrings. Marinette felt the biggest jolt of panic she'd felt since the day she'd received them, and Alya had been trapped by a car against a wall.

“I hadn't anticipated that Chat Noir's paramour would be none other than Ladybug in her human guise,” he admitted, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and sent a cold shiver through Marinette's bones, “but it has made things much easier for me.”

He closed his fingers around her earrings again, and slipped them into the inside pocket of his jacket. “You should make yourself comfortable. The Deliverer will deliver him, and his Miraculous to me soon.”

*****

The akuma had handed him a letter. Actually handed him a letter. Chat Noir had opened it, a dozen cameras fixed on him as he'd read the words, seen the signature of Hawk Moth, and then took off after the retreating akuma. It would lead him to Marinette, the letter had promised. Chat didn't doubt it. It would also lead him into a trap, although Hawk Moth hadn't said as much. Hawk Moth didn't need to say as much; Chat wasn't stupid.

Ladybug wasn't answering his calls. Sometimes, civilian life happened and you just didn't see what was going on until you found yourself in the thick of it. Chat could really, really do with today not being one of those days for Ladybug. He needed her help. His heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest and his ears, and he couldn't think straight. His thoughts kept returning to Marinette, to the image of her being tossed like a ragdoll into the railing of her balcony.

This was everything he'd ever dreaded. This was every nightmare he'd ever had about what could happen to Marinette. An akuma had got to her, Hawk Moth had sent an akuma after her specifically, to try and draw him in. And just like in his nightmares, Ladybug wasn't answering. Ladybug wasn't there when he needed her. She wasn't there when Marinette needed her.

“Please!” He shouted at his phone when Ladybug came up unavailable again. “I don't know if I can do this alone,” he cried, and it felt like a cry, like tears were threatening.

“Where are you?” He asked, trying one last, desperate time as the akuma disappeared inside a building. Ladybug, his partner, who had never let him down before, had let him down, had let Marinette down. He looked upwards, and resolved not to do the same before he followed the akuma inside.

He was careful as he entered the building, anticipating an ambush. The akuma had climbed steps, but Chat used his staff to vault up there, just in case there was an attack waiting for him at the top of them. There was no attack, which was a worrying surprise, but there was a door, and he pushed it open, keeping himself to the side, and listening. There was a scuffling noise, and some desperate, muffled murmuring, as if someone was moving, or trying to move, and Chat gripped his baton and leapt through the doorway.

The room was large, and dark, and butterflies flapped, their rest disturbed. In the centre of the room stood the akuma, a bundle of letters ready in his hand. At the edge, near the window, was Marinette. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and she tried to shout something to him, but he couldn't make out the words around the gag in her mouth.

“Neither rain, nor snow, nor gloom of night,” the akuma said, as if it was a mantra, “will stay this messenger about his duty. I will deliver your Miraculous, Chat Noir.”

Chat smirked, shouldering his weapon easily. “What does your motto say about angry cats?”

“Animals should be restrained or secured indoors for successful delivery.”

“Sorry,” Chat said, “Marinette's the only one allowed to do that to me.” Even though she was barely on the periphery of his vision, Chat saw Marinette roll her eyes.

The akuma brandished a letter, and flicked it towards him. He knocked it aside with a twirl of his baton, frowning at the metallic clang as the two things connected. That didn't sound like harmless paper.

“First delivery attempt,” the akuma said, and moved to attack. Chat dodged, and kicked as the akuma flicked another letter with frightening precision. He aimed a kick for the akuma's head, trying to work out where the demonic little butterfly was likely to be hiding. He was clearly a postal worker, people were always akumatised in some way relevant to their emotional state and this one had gone postal with a different kind of flair to the one usually implied by that phrase. It was always something they had on them before the akuma came along, too. Some item that could be held representative of their pain.

Chat scanned the villain as he blocked rogue letters that scythed through the air towards him. The outfit was the wrong colour and too outdated, so was the hat--

The bag.

Chat grinned and moved in to attack. He needed Ladybug here to cleanse the butterfly afterwards, but she wasn't here right now, and he needed to get Marinette out safely. There was little else for it but to prioritise. Once Marinette was safe, he could worry about getting in touch with Ladybug so they could hunt down the akuma. He'd never be able to get Marinette out of here with the akuma blocking the way like this, and especially not one that used letters as guided projectiles.

He dodged and struck, taking the akuma's knees out from under him with his staff. “Cataclysm!” He heard a noise from Marinette somewhere behind him, but it would be okay soon enough. He brought the attack down on the bag's strap, careful to avoid touching the person beneath, and caught the falling bag with his staff. He used the momentum to swing it up into the air, and then smacked it like a baseball so hard that it tore.

A black butterfly flew free, and immediately began to make a break for the window. Chat watched it with a frown, but left it to fly away. He had to find Ladybug and track it down later, but it wouldn't cause much more than minor mischief so long as the person it had infected didn't become upset again. It gave them a window of opportunity.

A very confused, young postal worker sat on the floor where the akuma had been. He was crying, and looked utterly lost. “Hey,” Chat said, kneeling down to him. They were always careful with someone who had recently been the victim of an akuma, you had to remember that they were victims, of Hawk Moth, and of circumstances, “it's all right. I'm going to get Ladybug, and we'll look after you. For now, you should go home.” Chat would be able to find him, later, all he had to do was ask at La Poste about where they lived.

He helped him up from the floor, and watched as the confused man practically ran from the room. His ring beeped for the second time before he turned and saw Marinette, still bound, and looking very impatient. “Don't try and tell me I shouldn't feel guilty,” he said, walking towards her. He knew she would, she always would, because Marinette was just like that. She took things in stride that she shouldn't have to, first with the press, and now this. At least she was safe, and if Chat's hands shook as he untied her hands, he could tell himself that was just the adrenaline dying away.

The moment her hands were free she ripped the gag away from her mouth. “Run!” She shouted at him, eyes wild, “it's a trap!”

“Of course it was a trap,” he began, but she shook her head urgently, and then stared, wide eyed and horrified at the doorway. Chat turned to follow her gaze, and looked up at Hawk Moth. He felt his stomach drop to his shoes, automatically moving to keep himself between Marinette and Hawk Moth, one arm out to shield her as he readied his baton in the other.

“That won't be necessary,” Hawk Moth said, his voice oddly familiar, but Chat couldn't put his finger on it, and didn't have the time to try. “Give me your Miraculous,” he said, holding one hand out, “and you may both walk out of here.”

Chat's ring beeped for the third time. Two minutes left. They were in big, big trouble, and the only way out of it would be for Ladybug to show up like the cavalry at the last minute. “You want it?” He asked, with a bravado he didn't really feel. “Come and get it.”

Hawk Moth sighed as if Chat was merely testing his patience, and readied his cane. He held his arms out as an invitation to attack and Chat took it, feinting at the last moment and ducking a blow that would have knocked him sideways. He blocked the returning strike that followed, and countered with his own, his extended baton clashing against Hawk Moth's cane.

Marinette felt panic and bile rising in her throat, and she worked fast to untie her legs. She scrabbled to her feet, barely free of the restraints, and ran to the fight. Chat needed to get out of here before his transformation wore off, but she was ostensibly useless except as a bargaining chip now. If Chat could keep his head and not come for her, or at least think things through before he did, they'd be okay.

She didn't know how she was going to get the earrings back, but she would. Hawk Moth wanted both of the Miraculous, not just hers, so unless he got Chat's as well, there was time.

Marinette caught an attack on her arm, blocking it as she joined the fight, and winced because it hurt more to do that now than it ever had as Ladybug. She swung a foot, a knee, an elbow, trying to connect with Hawk Moth, but he moved out of the way of her attacks as deftly as he did Chat's, and returned with more of his own that were harder to avoid because she was slower than she was used to.

Chat's ring beeped again, this time insistently, and she saw his eyes go wide before he made one last, desperate bid to atttack, and then green light washed up, over him.

“Adrien?”

Frozen in her shock, Marinette felt the blow before she'd registered the movement, and landed on her side a few feet away with a groan. Hawk Moth snatched Adrien's arm, holding it up, holding Adrien off the floor by his wrist until his toes scrabbled for purchase. Hawk Moth's laugh would become a thing of Marinette's nightmares as he tucked his cane under his arm and reached up to remove the ring from Adrien's finger.

Something small and black flew up to Hawk Moth's hand, and he yelped in pain, flinging the little black thing aside before he dropped Adrien and kicked him hard in the chest for good measure. Adrien skidded, and wheezed on the ground next to Marinette as Hawk Moth laughed again, holding the ring up so he could see it.

Marinette looked around wildly. Adrien was going to need a few minutes to recover, the kwami could only do so much. There wasn't anyone else.

She picked herself up off the floor, judging her timing carefully before she sprinted at Hawk Moth, grabbing at his hand, and the ring in his fingers. She landed a few feet away, the ring closed tightly in her fist, as Hawk Moth cried out in a rage, rounding on her. She backed up, holding onto Chat's ring like her life depended on it.

Adrien fought his way to his knees, looking at Marinette. He looked over towards the kwami that was heading towards her as well, and seemed to come to a decision. “Plagg!” He shouted, despite his breathlessness, and reached into his jacket, “Catch!”

Marinette and Hawk Moth looked around as a triangle of something white sailed through the air, was caught by the black kwami, and then disappeared.

“You have to say 'Claws Out',” Adrien said, looking directly at Marinette.

Marinette's mouth fell open, ready to protest. This was his ring, his power, she had her own. Except she didn't right now. What she had right now was her civilian identity, a boyfriend she couldn't safely return the ring to, and an angrily approaching supervillain. She gritted her teeth and put the ring on with sudden determination, keeping her focus on Hawk Moth. “Claws out!”

It felt a lot like transforming into Ladybug. There was that same rush of power, that same sense of the outfit building itself around her. She couldn't see what she looked like, but she could, weirdly, feel the tail behind her, the claws on her fingertips, and her hearing was sharper. She could hear Adrien still fighting to get his breath back, hear the approaching footsteps of Hawk Moth. She could see, too. The dim light outside the circle cast by the lone window wasn't a hindrance; she could see through it perfectly.

So this was what it felt like to be Chat Noir?

She darted and slid to Hawk Moth's side as he swung an attack at her. She needed, somehow, to get her earrings back. She needed, after that, to somehow get herself and Adrien out of here safely.

Adrien was Chat Noir....

No time to think about that right now! With the strength and speed of a magical suit backing her up, Marinette was able to evade and counter Hawk Moth's attacks. She didn't make any of her own, yet, she was buying herself time to think The transformation was new, she had cataclysm at her disposal. How long had Hawk Moth been transformed? Had he dropped his own transformation when he'd left her alone to await the akuma and Chat, or had he kept it up? Was he tiring? Did he have a time limit like they did? Even without using Cataclysm, or Lucky Charm, she and Chat had to bear in mind the energy levels of their respective kwami. A fully rested and fed kwami could last several hours. A kwami that had only been able to grab a quick bite between transformations could struggle to keep it up for too long.

What state was Hawk Moth in?

He was slower than her, she realised, as she slid on her toes under his arm and caught him hard in the side with Chat's baton. He was stiffer, older. He held his side where she'd struck, and his eyes alighted on Adrien, getting to his own feet with a look of determination and clenched fists.

No. No, she wasn't going to allow that.

Hawk Moth moved towards Adrien, and Marinette moved towards Hawk Moth, catching him with the extending baton and throwing him against the wall. If he was going to start playing psychological games and use them against each other, she had to deal with him here and now.

“Cataclysm!” She pinned him against the wall with the end of the baton. Her hand felt charged with misfortune, as if that sense that something wasn't going to end well had been collected, and turned into a sensation. She pressed it to the floor, and watched as darkness boiled, and the floor began to crack. The cracks in the floor spread up the wall, reaching the window, and then the whole lot exploded outwards in shattering glass and tumbling stone.

She dashed forward on instinct her hand wrapping around Hawk Moth's wrist, and he held onto hers as he fell, downwards, his weight dragging her onto her stomach, and towards the edge. She slide a few inches, and then felt a pull at her waist, and looked behind herself to see Adrien, leather tail of her suit wrapped around his arm, leaning back on his heels to keep her from going too far.

She looked back at Hawk Moth. “Give me the earrings,” she said, looking into his blue eyes.

He sneered, and brought his other hand up to reach for her fingers. The hand she was holding him with was the one wearing Chat's ring. It gave its first beep, and he reached for it.

“You'll fall!” She shouted.

“Then pull me up,” he replied, his fingers gripping the ring. She curled her fingers as tightly into his arm as she could so he didn't have the leverage to move it.

Maybe it wouldn't kill him, she thought. She'd thrown Chat Noir off taller buildings than this before expecting him to be fine. He'd been able to rescue himself, she knew, and the suits made you practically invulnerable. She survived forces that would have snapped her neck, splintered her bones, torn her internal organs in half. Maybe the same was true of Hawk Moth?

As he fought to pull the ring off her finger, she realised it was a risk she was going to have to take, or there was a very real chance he'd pull her over the edge, and walk away with both her earrings and Chat's ring, Adrien's ring. She growled, gripping Hawk Moth's arm tightly, her claws piercing the material of his sleeve, pricking into skin underneath, and pulled him up.

He grinned at her, until she thrust her other hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved the contents. “These are mine,” she told him.

She didn't remember, afterwards, if she let go, or he did. Him, in his fight to retrieve the earrings as well, or her in her fight to keep them. She just remembered the look on his face as he fell, eyes wide, arms and legs moving without control. She closed her eyes before she heard him land, and Adrien yanked her back by the tail.

He sat on the floor behind her, propping himself up on his arms, and looking at her with a mixture of love, and awe, and wonder. She sat herself up as well, looking at him. “Adrien,” she began, as the ring beeped again.

She didn't get any further before he threw himself at her, his arms tight around her back, and his face pressed in against her hair. She stiffened, and then hugged him back. “Adrien, I have a confession to make,” she whispered.

Adrien leaned back, his hands on her shoulders. He bit his lip as he looked her over, and Marinette was suddenly very self conscious of the fact that she was dressed up like a teenage Catwoman, black leather, cat ears, and bell zipper at her throat-- She looked down, and pulled it up her throat in a fit of self consciousness. Ladybug's outfit might be skintight but she'd never felt exposed in it.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he said, “I tried. I wanted to,” he looked her over again, his cheeks flushed.

Marinette sighed, and pressed her fingers against his lips. “Just shut up for one minute, Chat,” she said, and then caught what she'd said, and laughed a little. Adrien was staring at her, eyes wide and delighted.

Magic flowed up over her, bathing her in green light until she was just Marinette again, and she slipped the ring off her finger. Plagg, the little black kwami flew up into the air, and then spiralled downwards again, exhausted, and Marinette took Adriens' hand off her shoulder, and pressed his ring back into his palm. “This is yours,” she told him.

He closed his fingers around it, sitting back as he looked up at her. “And these,” she said, suddenly nervous as she moved and clipped her earrings back in, “are mine.”

There was a flash of red, and Tikki reappeared. She looked at Adrien, and then turned, looking at Marinette before flying forwards and hugging her as hard as a kwami could. “Marinette!”

“You're Ladybug,” Adrien said, sounding stunned.

Marinette cradled Tikki in her hands before she looked at Adrien, and nodded. “I couldn't tell you,” she said, quietly. “I wasn't ready. I was falling for you, for Chat you, and you were falling for me, Marinette me, not Ladybug me, and I didn't want it to effect our partnership because we have a job to do, but it was hard for me to see you get yourself hurt to protect me and I didn't want to put you through that feeling and,” she was rambling, and she stopped when Adrien's hand cupped her cheek.

“It doesn't matter now,” he said, looking at her like the whole world had jumped sideways underneath him, and the only thing in his world that hadn't moved was her. “I fell in love with you, and then I fell in love with you, and I'm in love with you no matter what clothes you're wearing.”

She stared at Adrien, feeling her heart flutter before she jumped forwards and buried herself in his arms. He held her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go again, and said, “I got to fall in love with you twice.”

“Blech,” a voice said, from over his shoulder. “This is the wrong sort of cheese for my tastes.”

“Oh hush, Plagg,” another voice said. “It's sweet.”

“It's disgusting.”

Marinette sighed, the moment effectively ruined, and she leaned back a little. “Come on,” she said. “We have an akuma to catch before it wreaks havoc, and I don't think that fall will have killed Hawk Moth.”

Adrien nodded, a warm and genuine smile on his face. “Yes, my Lady.”


	28. Epilogue

“Do you think they'll be okay?” Chat asked, as he walked Marinette up to her room. Her parents had been a mess when he'd finally brought her back, when they'd finally caught and purified the akuma, finally gone back to look for Hawk Moth, finally informed the Police that yes, actually, he probably could survive that fall, and Chat Noir had finally been able to return his girlfriend to her stricken parents after their ordeal. They'd hugged Marinette, her father seeming to be holding it together less effectively than her mother, and Marinette had cried on them, and then her mother had come and hugged Chat before he could make a getaway.

“We knew you'd find her,” she said, enveloping him in her arms and not letting him go. Chat didn't speak, because if he did he knew his voice would break as he confessed that they'd had more confidence than him. Instead he'd hugged her back, and his eyes had met Marinette's as she was held tightly by her father.

“I think so,” Marinette answered, quietly. She'd asked her parents for a few minutes with Chat. They needed to talk about what had happened, and Chat wished he could convince himself that was just Marinette buying them some alone time so he could bury his face in her hair and breathe her in until he could convince himself the whole ordeal had just been a bad dream. It wasn't, though, they did need to talk.

“You can never tell them you're Ladybug, can you?” He asked, but it was an observation, not a question. The answer had been plain in her mother's worried expression, and her father's puffy red eyes.

“No,” Marinette said, quietly.

“You're Ladybug,” Chat repeated, sitting himself down on her chaise.

“We've gone over that, Chat,” Marinette said, sitting herself down on her computer chair with a sigh. She needed to get in touch with Alya, too, and tell her she was okay.

“No, I mean,” Chat began, his eyes widening, “when you were telling me not to wait for her if I had to come and save you, or fight you, or,” he trailed off. “You're Ladybug. That's why you told me that!” 

Marinette looked at Chat Noir, at Adrien, and his sudden realisation. She looked away. “I told you that because I _do_ trust you, and I do want it to be you,” she said, softly. “But also because, yes, I'm Ladybug, which means that if anything happens to me, you're the only one that can save me, and I can't afford for you to hesitate.”

Chat rested his elbows on his knees, and ran his hands into his hair. It was a lot to process, and they hadn't had time before. There had been a job to do, a city to save, an akuma to stop. Now he sat in Marinette's room, listening to his girlfriend talk about being Ladybug with the clinical detachment of someone talking about their sixth toe. “I nearly lost you,” he said. “And now Hawk Moth is still out there, and he knows who you are, and who I am,” the realisation of this fact struck Chat like a hammerblow to his heart. This wasn't going to be over. It was going to be far from over.

Marinette watched him, and then sighed, the exhale long and slow as she stood again and glided over to Chat. She sat down next to him and put her arm around his back as she said, “Adrien,” he looked up at her, his eyes wide, “it's going to be okay.” He opened his mouth to speak, and Marinette put her fingers over his lips. “Hawk Moth found out today what happens if he tries to hurt either of us to get at the other. That tactic won't work for him. It only makes us stronger. If he wants to beat us, he has to drive us apart, and today only pushed us closer together.” She traced her fingers over his cheek, her throat feeling dry. “I destroyed half a building and threw him off it because he dared consider going for you,” she admitted, softly. “I don't think he'll make that mistake twice.”

Adrien stared at her through Chat Noir's wide eyes, his cheeks colouring. “You didn't throw him,” he said, eventually. “I saw him let go. He fell.”

Marinette pressed her lips together and broke the eye contact. “I'm not so sure,” she said, very softly.

Then it was Adrien's turn to press a suited hand to her cheek, turning her to look at him again. “I am,” he said. “You grabbed him when he was going to fall. Even though he hurt you, despite what he is, you still went to save him.”

“I went to save my earrings,” Marinette said.

Chat shook his head. “No,” he said, “that was instinct. You didn't have the time to think. I was there, Ladybug,” her breath hitched at being called that outside of the suit, but Chat continued, “you tried to help, and he wouldn't let you. You're not the sort of person that throws people off buildings in a fit of rage.” He flashed her a bright, mischievous grin, “I like to think you're not that angry at me when you do it, anyway.”

Marinette laughed, and it was genuine amusement, but weak, and weary. “You sound so sure.”

“I'm sure,” he said, softly, and he seemed so close with his fingers lingering on her cheek and his eyes lighting up the world. “I know you, and it sounds like I know you better than you know yourself.” Marinette gave him a weak smile, and then closed her eyes as he pressed forwards and brushed her lips with his in a soft kiss. “You're the girl I love,” he whispered. “Marinette, Ladybug, it doesn't matter which name you go by, my heart knows you, and it seems it always has.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he pressed another kiss to her lips, and then pressed her back against the chaise. She lost herself in his kiss for a moment. Chat's kiss, she thought, _Adrien's_ kiss. She'd been giving Adrien cake, and cuddling him through his nightmares, and watching the twinkling lights of Paris with _Adrien_ these past months. It was Adrien who had come to her at three in the morning to first tell her loved her, Adrien who had told her to close her eyes as he let her hands explore his face--

Adrien's butt she'd squeezed.

“Oh my god,” Marinette said, pulling away in a moment of horror and pushing Chat back with one hand, “you saw the posters.” She flushed beetroot red as she played back all the moments that had constituted this relationship so far. “No wonder you could do the poses so well!”

Chat grinned at her, his eyes crinkling as he flashed his teeth, looking like a cheeky schoolboy who had just had some prank go off without a hitch.

“You rotten alleycat, Adrien Agreste,” she scolded.

He laughed, and buried his face against her neck to smother his laughter, Marinette huffed, her face still burning as she folded her arms around his back and held him tight. “I can't believe it's really you,” she whispered, after a moment of simply holding him.

“It's me, princess,” he replied, softly. “It's always been me.”


End file.
